Love's Last Embrace
by IAmAPrustrian
Summary: When a dying Gilbert Beilschmidt walked into the cafe, he was merely looking for shelter. He did not expect a certain Austrian to accidentally stumble into his life... AH, AU, Prustria, PruAus, Prussia x Austria. Multi Chapter fic, updated frequently, will be a tragedy ;) Sucky summary is sucky... :(
1. Chapter 1

Gilbert was dying. Of that he was certain. His health was failing and there was nothing he could do about it. He looked around Ludwig's kitchen, where he was raiding the fridge for beer; there were so many signs that he lived here, yet none of them were permanent: the empty beer cans that cluttered the floor and work surfaces (as well as most of the rest of the house) would be cleared away, the ketchup stains would be scrubbed of the ceiling and the coffee beans swept up. Within a day or two, the house would look as if he had never even been here. He sighed and gave up his search for beer; his brother had probably drunk the last of it. Slamming the fridge door shut, he skulked of back to his room. This was the room of the house that would take the most clearing up when he was gone: on the floor alone there were enough clothes to keep a Laundrette's in business for a month and enough aluminium cans to melt down and make a small plane. The walls were originally pained in magnolia (trust Lud to be boring like that thought Gilbert, if he had his own way the walls would be bright orange but Ludwig had forbidden Gilbert from any form of decorating after he had painted the kitchen fluorescent pink the previous summer), but none of the cream paint could be seen behind the massive Prussian flags which had been pinned to the walls. Ludwig had simply sighed and walked away when he first saw this new addition to the bedroom and merely requested that Gilbert fill in all the holes from the nails when he gained some artist sense and took them down. Ludwig would never understand Gil's obsession with the long-dead nation. Gilbert slumped miserably on his bed; there had been no sign of Ludwig all day, so he was incredibly lonely. However, it did mean that Lud couldn't see how ill-looking he had become recently: the dark circles under his eyes had become increasingly difficult to hide and his already pale skin had turned a deathly shade of white.  
His boredom getting the best of him, he dragged himself off the bed and to the door, kicking clothes out of the way as he went. He stomped dejectedly down the stairs, not even looking at the bannister he delighted in sliding down (much to Ludwig's disapproval). He pulled open the door, stepping outside into the chilly night air. He would go to the pub; alcohol would take his mind off things. Slowly, he trudged down the driveway, past the neatly manicured bushes and ornamental fountains, and out through the decorative pillars of his brother's house.  
He walked into the pub, collapsed onto a stool and slumped on the bar.  
"Give me the strongest thing you have" he slurred; if he didn't get alcohol soon he was going to become VERY depressed. His life was swirling down the plughole and he felt he deserved a little bit of happiness before all chance of it vanished for ever.  
"You sure mate?" inquired the bartender, "You look pretty sloshed already!"  
"I'm not drunk!" protested Gilbert "Just tired." he added as an afterthought, as the bartender gave him a look of disbelief.  
The bartender seemed to realise that money was money no matter what and started mixing Prussia a drink. When it was placed in front of him, it was a radioactive shade of green which Prussia would normally been extremely willing to drink as it meant he would be off his face within minutes of swallowing and so would qualify as being 'awesome'. Today however, he just saw it as a way of forgetting his predicament; forgetting he was going to die.

Ludwig P.O.V.

I don't know what is wrong with Gilbert, he doesn't seem himself: he hasn't declared anything to be 'awesome' in days! I know that Gilbird can sense it too - his cheerful chirping has seemed to be almost fake recently as he only does it to cheer Gilbert up. Which doesn't work. Nothing works. I wish Feliciano hadn't dragged me to this pub; I really don't see the point when there is nothing to celebrate. Also, the beer here is nothing like as good as proper German stuff!  
"Doitsu!" Feli shrieked in my ear, causing me to wince in pain.  
"Why is Mr Gilbert slumped on the bar over there?"  
My head flicked up - what on earth was Gilbert doing here, I thought he was depressed for God's sake not trying to get sloshed AGAIN!  
"Sheiße!" I hissed under my breath, leaping up to go and reprimand him about careless behaviour and the dangers of being stone drunk. However, Feliciano was ahead of me and was already bouncing across the pub to Gilbert.  
"Hey, Mr Gilbert! Why are you here alone?" Feli asked enthusiastically "You could have joined us!"  
Gilbert lifted his head from his arms and scowled at Feliciano through bloodshot eyes. This, combined with the fact that he had red irises already, made him look like a demonic creature from a horror movie, yet Feli remained completely unfazed.  
"You look ill Mr Gilbert" declared Feliciano, his voice still characteristically optimistic.  
"You should go to the doctors, that's where Doitsu sends me when I'm... Where are you going Mr Gilbert?"  
Gil had stood up suddenly on shaking legs, and started stumbling towards the exit. I chased after him, cursing under my breath. He was completely drunk, there was no way he could leave; he would get hurt (or, given his current depressed state, hurt someone)!  
"Gilbert! Stop! You'll get hurt if you leave!"  
"Leave me alone, West!" snarled Gil at me, leaving me startled at his outburst, and as shocked as if he had slapped me in the face.  
"Gil..." I said weakly, as the door of the pub slammed shut.  
"Give me the strongest thing you have" I said to the bartender, sinking onto a stool and resting my head on my hands.

Gilbert P.O.V.

"They cannot know. They cannot know." I repeated to myself as I ran down the road, much vision blurry and my feet dragging me in all directions. "They cannot know that I am dying!" Despite the alcohol slowing down my brain, I still felt fairly logical, as I helter-skeltered down the street. It was dark now, and the streetlights cast shadows which appeared to dance menacingly before me. A bush became a dark hooded figure; trees became eerie skeletons and a cat, skulking in an alley, a terrifying monster.  
I began to run, all effects of the alcohol gone from my mind in my terror. Up ahead, I could see light pouring out of the entrance to a coffee house and I could hear the soothing sounds of piano music drifting through the chilly night air.

I walked through the open door, glad to be free of the shadowy street. Slumping down into a chair in the corner, I put my head in my hands in despair. The sweet music because dark and ominous to match my mood and I turned to look at the pianist and, to my surprise, found him looking back at me. His gaze flickered back to the music as the piece became more violent but, when the music's energy dissipated, I found him looking at me with an expression of worry on his face. I had been planning to glare back at him, to make him know that I did not want his sympathy, yet the genuinely concerned expression on his face was not what I had been expecting.  
Thrown off my stride, I dropped my gaze. "Stupid!" I muttered to myself. Great. Now I looked weak. I slumped further into my seat. The alcohol I had drunk earlier had only served to make me even more depressed, yet I was pretty certain it wouldn't kill me; I was infamous for my high alcohol tolerance!

The piano music came to an end, and everyone around me started clapping. The thunderous applause the man received was loud enough to jolt me out of my reverie, but yet again, as I looked up and began clapping robotically, I saw the pianist staring at me in concern. I gave him a weak smile, but my attempt to pacify a complete stranger, who was far too busy sticking his nose into other people's business, was clearly not enough. His expression was now fixed into a fake smile, yet his eyes remained locked on me, calculating. The applause died down, the man left the stage and so people got up to leave, yet I stayed slouched in my seat, hoping that some other performer would appear on stage so I could continue blending into the shadows.

Roderich P.O.V.

My whole body swayed with the emotion of the music, threatening to pull me under, to pull me down into the waves of sound and hold me prisoner. I let it pull me down, as my fingers continued moving of their own accord. So lost was I in the music, I didn't even register the eyes of the audience; watching me inquisitively, as one may observe a hamster on a wheel of an exotic fish in its tank. However, I did notice when a man, with strikingly white hair, walked into the cafe. However, it was not the hair that shocked me, nor was it the fact that his eyes were blood red. It was the fact that he appeared to be less than half the age of the rest of the people in the cafe, and clearly not the usual type of visitor. His snowy hair was in disarray, his clothes were scruffy and his eyes held a kind of frantic gleam; a far cry from the neat and tidy, up-together audience members I was accustomed to. I found myself drawn to him, somewhat instinctively, for some reason I could not fathom. On closer inspection, I saw that he had dark circles under his eyes, and his face appeared gaunt and thin; was he ill? I continued staring at him, still not consciously realising I was doing so, until my fingers began moving faster and faster, and my gaze was torn back to the sheet music. Now however, I could feel his gaze on me, and my eyes flickered back to look at him. He appeared to be in his twenties, so about the same age as me, and his face was set in a defiant expression, eyes glaring back at me. I held his gaze, he was a most peculiar person I decided; he looked superficially to be your typical young adult, the sort who went to heavy metal concerts and appeared to have never heard of a brush and comb, but I could see in his eyes that he was troubled. He returned my stare, yet dropped it soon after, as if he was admitting defeat. This young man was very much a mystery.

It then occurred to me that I may have been a little too fixated on this man - I was supposed to be marrying Vash Zwingli next year after all! We weren't officially engaged, but everyone assumed Vash would produce a ring sooner or later. My parents had eventually accepted my homosexuality, after paying a fortune to 'cure' me of my 'Addled Mind', and had immediately started searching for a suitor for me as if I was some sort of highborn young lady from Elizabethan England!  
My parents were well known around here: My Mother, Anna, and her husband Lukas were both well off, yet weren't social climbers as one may have expected; they just wanted what was best for their only son. My Mother, Annaliese (or Anna as she preferred to be called) was born in Austria, and lived in Vienna until she met my Father, Lukas Bondevik, who played violin in the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra and was originally from Norway but lived in England. I lived in Austria until I was twelve, then my Mother and I moved to England to live with my Father, who still had to fly to Austria because of his role as leader of the orchestra - the most important person (apart from the conductor). I didn't really have many school friends so moving was not a problem. The one friend I did have was Elizaveta Hédévary, a Hungarian girl who lived next door until I was eight, when she moved back to her home country. She was a bit of a tomboy however, and my parents never approved of her, and were not sad to see her leave.

Vash Zwingli was the son of a wealthy banker who was well-known around here as he had started life being very poor, yet had worked his way up to the top. He was very strict about saving money, and this appeared to have rubbed off on him and his younger sister, Lilli. My parents thought he was an ideal match for me, and his parents were music lovers who greatly admired my Father, and so they too supported our relationship.

I suppose I did love Vash, a bit. He was very kind and caring, yet he would always be distracted by feeling the need to chase around his fourteen year old sister, protecting her from life itself!

But, whether I loved him or not, I was still marrying him, so why my traitorous eyes were once again straying to the newcomer's table, I don't know!

When the piece of music finished, I stood up to take a bow, yet again, my eyes were again drawn to the silverette in the far corner. Why! My head shrieked internally; was there some supernatural force here, sent to test my loyalty to Vash? It was working... No! I mustn't think that. I would not.  
I hurriedly left the stage, and went to the small upstairs room the café owner had let me use to keep my belongings tonight. I resisted the urge to bash my head on the wall, and instead took a long swig of coffee from the flask I had brought with me for the taxi journey home. I grabbed my bag, and walked down the stairs, my mind a mile away from reality. I turned and headed towards the back door, or at least I thought I did. I found myself in the main room of the café, surrounded by a sea of tables and their occupants, who were heading in droves for the exit. I cursed internally, my sense of direction, or lack thereof, had failed me again, and now I was surrounded by the crowds I had hoped to avoid. Luckily, nobody seemed to notice me, they were all far too intent on getting to the door and one of the taxis parked out front: I had attempted to sneak out the back door to secure one of them, but now I knew I would not be so lucky.

My traitorous feet now seemed to have developed a mind of their own again, and were now leading me towards the table in the corner where the young man still sat. He looked up at me and scowled.  
"What do you want?" he asked scathingly.  
"I... I... I wanted to know if you were all right, you look ill." I stuttered nervously, still unsure as to why I was talking to him in the first place. He looked up at me from under heavy lidded eyes, their crimson irises sparkling with indignation.  
"Why should you care!" he said spitefully, dislike clear in his features.  
"I... I don't know; I was just worried I guess. I'm sorry for bothering you: it was most impolite of me. Goodnight sir." I turned to leave, but as I headed for the exit, the man called after me:  
"Wait!"  
I spun round in surprise  
"I just wanted to say thank you. For caring. Goodnight."  
"Goodnight." I continued towards the exit, now very confused, as the man began to stand up to leave too.  
Outside the cafe, the once crowded taxi bays were now empty, and I figured it would be quicker to walk back to my apartment - was only ten minutes away.

Twenty minutes later, I was still walking through the ark streets, heading in hat I thought was the right direction. I was clearly wrong however, as I suddenly found myself in front of the cafe again! Cursing my appalling sense of direction again, I continued walking - I would find a road eventually - and then realised I was in a dark alley. I continued hurrying along, there were always stories about people getting mugged in alleys and I didn't want to end my life as just another statistic on a graph! As I walked, I saw a mysterious lump in front of me, which did not appear to be moving. I approached it warily, unsure of what I might find, yet still not wanting to linger in the dark street any longer than necessary. On closer examination, the lump appeared to be human: it couldn't be a dead body could it? And if so, was the killer still around? As I was about to turn and run, something caught my eye: the victim's hair was snow white...

* * *

**A/N**

**Yay! My first proper fanfic! This is going to be a multi-chapter fic, which I will update as often as I can, I will not leave it on a hiatus, no matter what, and if there is going to be a big delay between chapters, I will mention it in the description.**

**Anyway, thanks to Anna (Multicultureiskey) for proofreading this, (I love you Norgie!) and to Casey, whose update for her story (The World Of Hetalia - check it out on Wattpad. You will die laughing!) made me get around to actually posting this. Oh, and the names of streets are either names of or to do with my friends, or of the Houses at school. Expect more subtle references as I am a geek who loves that sort of thing! (Thinking about it, is a geek fangirl an oxymoron, cos if so, I am one...!)**

**Enjoy your week guys,**

**Emily Prustrian**


	2. Chapter 2

All logical thoughts of running were pushed from my mind; was this the man from the cafe earlier? And if so, was he actually dead, or had he collapsed - he had appeared so ill earlier that he may have been walking home and collapsed. I prayed for the latter as I knelt down next to him and rolled him over to look at his face. It was him. My fingers fumbled in a panic for his wrist; was there a pulse? My hysteria rose further as I failed to find a pulse, so I pressed my ear to his chest, searching for a heartbeat. Still nothing. Starting to hyperventilate myself now, I began pushing hard on his chest, determined to get his heart beating again. I pressed my lips to his, forcing air into his lungs, willing him to live. Suddenly, I saw his chest begin to rise and fall again, and I could feel his heart beating under my tense fingertips. I sighed in relief, and only then I realize that tears had been pouring down my face. I searched blindly for my phone, and fumbled blindly with the buttons. Vash often teased me about having a mobile with a keypad, as opposed to a smartphone (he has an iPhone 5S or something, and it amused me how something so small could cost so much! He was normally so opposed to spending money that his recent purchase had shocked me beyond belief) yet I preferred the simplicity of a 'normal' phone. I dialled 999 hurriedly, and prayed for someone to pick up.  
"Which service do you require? Fire, police, ambulance or coastguard?"  
"A... A... Ambulance please!" stuttered Roderich.  
"Hello?" came a new voice. "What is your emergency?"  
"I've found a man unconscious in an alley, his heart wasn't... His heart wasn't beating. It is now though, and he's breathing, but unconscious."  
"Where are you?"  
"Um, I think it's Hamblin Alley, just off Francesca Street."  
"Keep him breathing, perform CPR again if necessary, an ambulance has been called for, it should be with you shortly."  
Roderich stayed on the phone for the next few minutes, whilst the operator kept him informed as to where the ambulance was. In the distance, he could hear the scream of sirens.  
"I can hear the ambulance!"  
"Good, it should be with you shortly: the GPS says it should be in Trenchard Avenue."  
Roderich sighed in relief; help would be here soon.  
"It's in Napier Terrace now, it will be with you soon"  
The screeching sound reached unbearable levels, and Roderich saw bright blue flashing lights as the ambulance jerked to a halt.  
"Out of the way please sir." ordered a paramedic, as him and two others began loading Gilbert into the ambulance.  
"Please! Let me go with him! I have to know he's alright!"  
"Well, I'm not sure, I mean..."  
"I don't know if he has any family anywhere near here or not, and can you imagine how panicked he'd be if he woke up and saw no-one at all he recognized!"  
"Fine, let's not waste time in arguing." said the paramedic, as Gilbert was wheeled on a stretcher into the ambulance. Roderich stepped in after the paramedics, and sat down as the ambulance pulled away, lights pulsing and sirens blaring.

The medical team automatically hooked Gilbert up to an oxygen tank, and began taking his blood pressure.  
"Is he okay?" asked Roderich, resisting the urge to leap to his feet and crowd round Gilbert - he knew he would only be a hindrance if he did.  
"His condition is stable at the moment, yet we won't know what's wrong with him for certain until he gets to hospital."

Roderich fretted the whole way there.

* * *

At the hospital, Gilbert was wheeled into a ward with four beds including his own, one of which was filled with a very irritable Englishman. If it wasn't that his food was too hot, then it was that the air conditioning was too loud: the man seemed to have a talent for complaining. Roderich, who had seen the man being wheeled into the ward had had felt an instant wave of sympathy for all of the doctors and nurses who would have to deal with him, groaned inwardly. Great. He would have to either buy some ear plugs, or sneak some sleeping draught into the man's food. Roderich waited patiently for Gilbert to wake, as he was sure he would prefer to hear Roderich's story of events rather than the wholly inaccurate version the doctors would spout. So far, the medical team were completely mystified as to what was wrong with him: they had run tests for every drug under the sun, had ruled out a heart attack or a stroke, had debated an Enlarged Heart, and then ruled that out too, along with Cardiac Arrhythmia and several other conditions Roderich had never even heard of before.

Gilbert stirred groggily, then his eyes fluttered open, before wincing at the bright hospital lights.  
"Where the hell am I?" asked Gilbert sleepily.  
"You're in hospital; you collapsed in Hamblin Alley about an hour ago, but the doctors can't find out what's wrong with you. They've tested you for all sorts of drugs, as well as every type of heart condition I've ever heard of."  
"And who the heck are you? I recognise you, but why you're by my fricking hospital bed, I have no idea!"  
"Oh, sorry, I'm Roderich Edelstein, I found you in an alley, and had to give you CPR as your heart wasn't beating. You recognise me as I spoke to you earlier in the cafe."  
"But why the hell are you here?"  
"Because I found you in the alley!"  
"But that doesn't explain why you are still here! No normal person would waste an hour of their evening sitting by a stranger's hospital bed!"  
Roderich contemplated this for a moment before nodding slowly:  
"To be honest, I don't even know why I'm still here, I mean, I don't even know your name!"  
The man hesitated for a while, before saying:  
"Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt."  
"Nice to meet you Gilbert." smiled Roderich primly.  
Gilbert sniggered at his formality, until Roderich's face became thoughtful and pensive.  
"I suppose... I suppose I was curious, not only as to why you collapsed, but why someone like you would have gone to a cafe like that, as you don't look like a concert goer!"  
Gilbert smiled faintly.  
"I go to concerts, all the time!"  
Roderich looked at him sceptically.  
"Rock, punk and heavy metal concerts!"  
Roderich laughed, and Gilbert's faint smile widened.  
"So what's your favourite band then? Will I have heard of them?" asked Roderich, trying to steer the conversation away from his reasons for being there in the first place. He wasn't even sure why he was there, so he couldn't begin to explain it to someone else!  
"You won't have heard of them, even if you did listen to punk music! They're called Тараканы, or Cockroaches."  
Roderich looked bemused for a second.  
"You're right, I haven't heard of them!"  
"I've probably heard of your favourite musicians, I'm guessing they're classical composers?"  
"Yes, my favourite is Mozart; he was born in Austria like me. But I wouldn't have expected someone who likes punk music to like classical music too."  
"I play the flute." said Gilbert, and seeing Roderich's face; "Not expecting that, were you Specs!"  
"D... D... Don't call me that!" stuttered Roderich, blushing furiously.  
"But no, I wouldn't have expected you to play the flute, I was thinking more along the lines of a trombone or something!"  
"Kesesesese! I thought you would!"  
"I suppose first impressions can be misleading..."  
"I bet I can guess what you play!" said Gilbert confidently  
"Piano, because I saw you play it; probably violin, as I can imagine you leading an orchestra; and cello or something, because most professionals I know play three instruments and I can't imagine you playing a wind or brass instrument!"  
Roderich smiled at him  
"You're right about the piano and violin, but I don't play the cello, I play the viola."

They continued talking for a few minutes, until a team of doctors walked in. Roderich stood up, and stepped away to make room for them, as they crowded round Gilbert's bed. Roderich would dearly have loved to tell them to give Gilbert some breathing space, yet he assumed the doctors knew what they were doing and he didn't want to get kicked out, so he stayed quiet.  
"We are glad to see you awake sir, now would you mind telling us a few things: we need to know your name, address, date of birth, medical history..."  
Roderich zoned out, as the doctors continued asking questions and filling out paperwork.  
"Sir, we would like to keep you in overnight, to keep you under observation, and so help will be immediately at hand if you fall ill again."  
"Fine, you probably want to stick more needles in my arm too, to find out what mysterious illegal substance I've taken!"  
The doctors looked taken aback at this, and some even shuffled their feet guiltily.  
"Now sir, the drug tests are only a precaution, we're not saying that you have knowingly taken any sort of illegal substance, but we need to find out what caused you to collapse. You could have DIED, if this young man here hadn't found you and performed CPR!"  
Gilbert scowled, but said nothing, and let the doctors take his blood pressure, temperature and another blood sample.

Some time later, the doctors left, and Gilbert heaved a sigh of relief.  
"Thank goodness they're gone!"  
Roderich rolled his eyes, and replied:  
"They only want to find out what's wrong with you, don't be too harsh on them."  
Gilbert looked like he was going to give a somewhat sarky reply, yet decided against it, and merely slumped further down the bed.  
"They didn't even say anything about when I can leave this goddamn hell hole!" he muttered mutinously to himself.  
Roderich glanced at his watch, only to gasp in horror.  
"Shoot! I should have been home a good three hours ago!"  
Gilbert snickered.  
"Well, not all of that can have been my fault, you said you found me an hour ago when I woke up, therefore you must have found me at ten 'o'clock, meaning that you must have been wandering for about half an hour prior to that. Did you get lost or something?"  
Roderich looked down at his feet and shuffled them nervously. Gilbert burst out laughing:  
"Kesesesese! You didn't! Hamblin alley is right next to the cafe!"  
Roderich's face went beetroot red.  
"In my defence, I had been walking for a good twenty minutes before then!"  
"But still! You must have been walking in a circle!"  
"You think that's bad, I get lost in my house on a daily basis!  
Gilbert spluttered:  
"Do you live in a mansion or something? Or is your sense of direction that crap!"  
Roderich's face seemed to turn an even darker shade of red, as Gilbert laughter continued raucously.  
"I really should be going, it's late, and I must be getting home."  
"Wait! Can you take a message to my brother, to tell him I'm alright?"  
Roderich nodded, but frowned slightly at Gilbert's definition of 'alright'.  
Gilbert hunted in his pockets, as he had yet to be forced into a hospital gown. He had no desire to wear a garment which had blatantly been designed by someone who had run out of material half way through, or was incredibly perverted. Gilbert thought that the backless gown was something it was likely his old friend Francis would have been proud to have designed. He hadn't seen Francis in ages however, not since his boyfriend Matthew had left him... Gilbert remembered the heartache he had felt at the time: his boyfriend had upped sticks and moved to Canada at exactly the same time that his best friend had vanished with an unfulfilled promise to write.  
Gilbert groaned in annoyance  
"Sheiße! I've lost my wallet! I'll have to hope that some decent person's handed it in at the police station. I can't give you West's address now, I haven't got any paper!"  
Roderich rooted in his own pockets, and produced a folded piece of embossed notepaper.  
"Here, use this. It's only an old shopping list."  
"Mein Gott, you use this sort of thing to write a shopping list on? You may as well write your list on a fifty pound note!" laughing Gilbert incredulously, waving he paper as Roderich also produced a fountain pen with his name engraved onto it. Gilbert raised his eyes at this too, before taking it gingerly.  
"I got the paper cheap in a sale; it had been in a smoke damaged warehouse. And the pen was an eighteenth birthday present."  
"How old actually are you?" asked Gilbert.  
"You speak and dress like an old gentleman, yet look like you're in your twenties!"  
"I'm twenty." started Roderich primly.  
"Ha! Same here!" laughed Gilbert. "Anyway, here's my brother's address."  
Roderich took the paper, and read the address: 3 Steele Drive. Steele Drive was in the more upmarket end of town, and the houses there weren't cheap: Roderich's family had thought about buying a house there, but had instead opted to spend twice as much money on a mansion in the countryside.  
"My grandfather's a CEO of a big business in the city" said Gilbert by way of explanation. "We live with him."  
Roderich put the paper in his pocket, and then took the pen and pad Gilbert held out.  
"What do you want me to tell him?" asked Roderich.  
"Apart from the fact that I'm alive? Tell him I'm in hospital, in the McFarlane ward."  
Roderich stood up.  
"I'll come back and see you tomorrow, to tell you what your brother said in case he hasn't come to visit you by then. Goodbye Gilbert, I wish you all the best."  
Gilbert waved goodbye too, and chose to ignore the feeling of happiness he felt in the pit of gist stomach about Roderich's return the next day.

* * *

A lot later that evening, Ludwig left the pub, with a drunken Feliciano on his arm. The strong drink he had drunk had numbed his senses, yet his high tolerance of alcohol meant he was still capable of rational thought. The same could not be said for Feliciano. The young Italian had started dancing on the table after only a few drinks, and then his behaviour had got to the point where Ludwig had had to physically restrain him. Drunken Italy had however taken this the wrong way, and had started voicing inappropriate thoughts about his German friend, punctuated with the occasional "Ve~!" or drunken hiccup. Ludwig would never be able to look at him in the same way again.  
A short while after Gilbert had stormed out, Feliciano's brother Lovino had entered the bar with his Spanish boyfriend, Antonio. Antonio had been to school with Gilbert, and Ludwig remembered him as being just as troublesome as Gilbert himself. Feliciano had managed to persuade his brother to stay for a few drinks, which he did reluctantly, and with much profanity. However, once Feliciano had managed to pass out on the bar, Lovino had taken great pleasure in throwing icy water at him, shouting for him to "Wake up, dammit!"  
Lovino had left shortly before them, leaving Ludwig to take Feliciano home. However, as he helped him stumble down the street, Ludwig noticed a flash of silver in the gutter by the side of the road. He steered the Italian towards it to investigate, only to discover that it was a wallet. Bending down to pick it up, Ludwig's pulse quickened as he saw a distinctive yellow chick keycharm on it.  
"Sheiße!" Ludwig swore under his breath. He hurriedly opened the wallet, looking for its owner's driving licence or some other form of identification. He swore even louder, as he read the name on the driver's licence - Gilbert Beilschmidt.

* * *

**A/N**

**Hello again! I just want to quickly say how pleased I am with how popular this story was after just one chapter! This is meant to be an All Human fic, but I realized that I may have called Feli Italy in the last chapter, which I've now fixed, along with some typos.**

**Think yourselves lucky you got this update today - I spent a whole hour just sitting at my kitchen table writing, whilst waiting for my Mum to get back from my sister's parents evening, waiting to ambush her as she came in the door as I had managed to chip a tooth. Which sucks, as I am a 15 year old girl with an irrational fear of dentist's drills (or their buzzy polishing things *****_shudder_*****).**

**See you guys soon (if I survive the dentist...)!**

**Emily Prustrian**


	3. Chapter 3

Ludwig rushed home with Feliciano draped over his shoulder; the barely conscious Italian mumbling to himself the whole way. Bursting through the front door, he dumped Feliciano on the sofa unceremoniously and headed straight for the phone. He dialled Gilbert's mobile number and began bouncing on the balls of his feet, impatient for him to pick up. From the living room, the sound of a harpsichord started playing.  
"SHEIßE!" swore Ludwig, as he recognized the ringtone to be a piece his brother had written the previous year along with his punk friend, Arthur.  
The song continued playing as Ludwig stormed into the living room. Gilbert's phone lay on the coffee table, still merrily singing away. Ludwig stabbed at the buttons on the house phone, and the music stopped as abruptly as it had started.  
"L... Lud... Ludwig?" slurred Feliciano from the sofa. Ludwig sighed, and went to sort out his Italian friend; he knew only too well what a handful he could be when drunk.  
A muffled "Ve~" came from the sofa - it was going to be a long night...

* * *

The next morning, Roderich was woken by the sun streaming through the curtains he had neglected to close the night before. Groaning loudly, he rolled over, only to come face to face with his white cat, Timmy.

He had let Vash's sister Lilli name him, however Timmy was not as cute and cuddly as one may have expected from his name – Lilli was the only person Roderich knew who was brave enough to even attempt to pick him up, and seemed not to notice every time Timmy made a swipe for her face with his claws. The first time Vash had noticed the cat's predatory behaviour, he had attempted to persuade Roderich to get rid of the cat yet Lilli, who was twelve at the time, had promptly burst into tears, and hugged the yowling creature to her chest. Roderich would personally have been glad to be rid of the animal, yet Lilli wouldn't hear of such a thing, her argument being that Roderich's other cat, Tiddiewitts, would be lonely. Tiddiewitts had been his grandmother's cat, yet he had volunteered to look after her when his Grandmother passed away two years previously. Roderich preferred Tiddiewitts to Timmy in the same way that a child prefers chocolate ice cream to cold cauliflower. Even though she was by far the most stupid cat Roderich had ever seen, yet he couldn't help wish it was her he had woken up to.

Roderich leapt out of bed, away from the insane cat, and scrambled for the door, clutching a sheet to his chest. He slept in boxers, but felt that it wasn't proper to wander around the house half naked.

"Nice kitty!" he cooed nervously, backing away towards the kitchen. He grabbed the packet of cat biscuits and shook the biscuits into a ceramic cat dish. Timmy stalked into the kitchen, and meowed at the sight of the food, before hurrying over to it, whilst Roderich jumped out of the way.

Roderich shuffled back to the bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looked at the time: 7:40.

"Oh well!" he thought to himself, "Twenty minutes extra won't matter!"

However, his hopes for extra sleep were dashed when he saw Tiddiewitts curled up and asleep right where Roderich had been lying only minutes previously. He cursed under his breath, and went to get dressed. As he pulled on his trousers, he felt something rustle in his pocket. Pulling it out, he realized it was the paper he had written Gilbert's brother's name and address on. Realizing what an important job it was he had to do, he quickly finished dressing, before wolfing down some breakfast and grabbing his indigo coat.

As he headed outside, he noticed it was suspiciously quiet. Looking at his watch, he realised it was still only eight o'clock in the morning. No matter how urgent the news, telling Gilbert's brother would have to wait, as he doubted he would want to be told such big news this early in the morning. Roderich turned and walked back into his apartment, hastily dodging out of the way of a hissing Timmy, and tripping over Tiddiewitts in the process. He would do some baking, take his mind of things.

Deciding to make Donauwelle, a traditional Austrian cake, from a recipe his Grandmother had given him, he set about finding the necessary ingredients. The cake's combination of cherries and chocolate had always comforted him, and reminded him of his Grandparents. Realizing he was in fact out of cherries, Roderich groaned as he realised he would have to go to the shop and buy some. There was no problem with it being too early – the corner shop he always went to took great pride in being open from 7am until 10pm, apart from Sundays, but Roderich had a feeling they would work all day then too, given the chance.

Roderich headed for the door, again trying to avoid the cats in his way. His apartment was almost exactly opposite the shop, one of the things that he had looked for specifically when buying the place: his ability to get lost had been just as great back then. Walking through the door, the shopkeeper, Berwald Oxenstierna mumbled a "g'd mornin' 'drich" before turning back to continue stacking shelves. His fellow shopkeeper, Tino Väinämöinen, waved a cheery hello to Roderich before returning to serving customers. Roderich wandered over to the fruit isle, before bending to pick up a pot of cherries.

"They're b'y one g't one free." muttered Berwald from the other side of the shop. Roderich, always one for saving money, picked up a second pot, before heading for the checkout, however he turned down the wrong isle and ended up on the complete opposite side of the store on the way.

Arriving back at his apartment, Roderich realized that buying two pots of cherries was in fact, a rather stupid move: he wouldn't get a chance to use them both up before they went mouldy. Suddenly, his brain flickered back to a certain silverette, currently residing in a hospital bed; a home-made cake would be sure to cheer him up! Roderich quickly set about making a double-sized batch of the cake – he could give half to Gilbert and bring him some form of relief from the monotonous boredom of the hospital, whilst at the same time using up the second pot of cherries. Roderich put the cake in the oven with a self-satisfied smile, before turning to survey his kitchen. It looked like a bomb had hit it, and then a hurricane come along and shaken up what was left. Groaning, Roderich grabbed a cloth and began cleaning.

About an hour later, Roderich had taken the cake out of the oven, and deemed it a socially acceptable time to pay Ludwig a visit. He put his coat back on and headed out of the door, clutching his hand-held sat-nav that he had extravagantly bought himself after taking a wrong turn whilst in Amsterdam and ending up in the Red Light District (an experience he would rather forget)!

* * *

Roderich cautiously approached Ludwig's front door, before timidly ringing the doorbell. A loud cacophony of dogs barking came from inside, before a cheerful young man with auburn hair came to the door.

"H… Hello. Are you Ludwig Beilschmidt?" stuttered Roderich nervously.

"Nope! I'm Feliciano Vargas but you can call me Feli, and Ludwig is here but I think he's still aslee…" The young man broke off suddenly as a new person, who was incredibly tall and muscular, with blond hair came to the door.

"Hello?" he said brusquely. "What do you want?"

Roderich stumbled over his words again, scared by the man's imposing presence.

"A… Are… Are you L… Ludwig?"

"Yes, I am. What was it you wanted?"

"Well, you see, it's about your brother, Gilbert. He…"

"Whatever, he's done, give me the bill, and I will make him pay for it." butted in Ludwig, sighing exasperatedly. This was not an infrequent occurrence then.

"No sir, you appear to have got the wrong idea, Gilbert hasn't done anything wrong; he's in hospital, and sent me to tell you."

Ludwig paled at this, and Feliciano, who had been hovering behind Ludwig, piped up, saying:

"Is Gilbert alright? He looked ill yesterday, didn't he Luddy! Ve~! I hope he's alright, he won't die will he Luddy? He'll be fine won't h…"

"Feliciano!" cried Ludwig, throwing his hands in the air. "Calm down, please." He turned to Roderich:

"Please, come in. Feliciano will make you a cup of tea if you want it."

"Oooo! Tea! Do you want sugar Mr Roderich? Or milk? Or both even! I like both, but Luddy only lik…" Feliciano stopped talking instantly as Ludwig spun round to glare at him.

"Today would be nice Feliciano."

Roderich followed Ludwig to the living room, wondering curiously who Feliciano was.

"Please excuse Feliciano," said Ludwig apologetically. "He tends to get a little over-excited. He stayed the night as he was drunk last night. I have no idea how he has even managed to wake up yet: he doesn't even appear to have a hangover!"

Roderich smiled; Feliciano seemed far too energetic and lively for something such as a hangover to affect him!

"Anyway," he said, once Feliciano had handed him a cup of tea and bounced over to the other settee, plopping down next to an exasperated Ludwig. "Gilbert is in hospital, as he collapsed last night in Hamblin alley, and his heart stopped beating. He has been tested for all sorts of substance abuse, as well as numerous heart conditions, but the doctors can't seem to tell what's wrong with him."

"Is he alright now?" asked Ludwig frantically. "My brother is not known for being able to look after himself!"

Bored with the non-pasta related conversation, Feliciano scrambled off of the sofa and headed off to the kitchen.

"I think he's okay, but I'm not sure. He's in Townsend Ward and, judging from his attitude yesterday when he woke up, he would dearly love some visitors. I'm not sure if the other man in the ward could deal with Feliciano though!" Roderich added in an undertone.

Ludwig nodded knowingly, and paused again before speaking.

"I think he dropped his wallet: I found it in the street. And if you see him before me, can you tell him that Gilbird is okay? I know Gilbert doesn't seem like an overly affectionate person, but he has this little  
yellow bird he seems to be obsessed with!"

"Gilbird." said Roderich incredulously. "He named a bird after himself."

"It's the sort of thing he would do; my brother can be an arrogant idiot when he wants to be!"

"Yes..." said Roderich sagely. "I got that feeling whilst speaking to him yesterday!" He looked at his watch.

"Visiting hours start at 11am, and I'm sure Gilbert would be more than grateful for the company."

"Before you go, thank you Roderich. For saving Mein Bruder when I couldn't myself."

* * *

**A/N**

**Sorry it's been so long! I was kinda distracted this week by making Hetalia Valentines Day cards! ;)**

**Anyway, Happy Valentines day (for yesterday)!**

**Please review - or Francis (who was rejected AGAIN by Arthur last night!) may *accidently* lose his way and find himself in your houses... Maybe Gilbert too, you know how they both enjoy invading Vital Regions... But I'm going to guess that some of you would think this a good thing (****_*cough* _****Anna****_ *cough*_****)!**

**Bye!**

**Emily Prustrian**


	4. Chapter 4

"Why?" thought Roderich to himself as he iced the second Donauwelle cake, artistically creating the swirled topping.

"Why do I always feel drawn back to him? He's a relative stranger, I don't even know him!"

He continued icing the cake, before putting it into a tin and checking the lid fit without damaging the intricate pattern on top.

"I don't know him, but I want to…"

* * *

"Just tell me when I can get out of here!" roared Arthur from the opposite bed to Gilbert.

"I'm really sorry sir, but we have to keep you in a bit longer, to keep tabs on you…"

The man growled ominously before muttering what sounded like magical incantations darkly under his breath.

"Great." Though Gilbert under his breath: not only was the man opposite the most demanding sod known to mankind, he was also crazy. Crazier than his American boyfriend who Gilbert had the misfortune of being awake to see (though he doubted he could have stayed snoozing for long if he had been asleep – the man's voice was so loud it was a wonder it couldn't be heard a mile away!).

"Santra ba~dra winza~rana~ wonpa~to~rana intrakantera…" came the mutterings. Gilbert slouched down further under his blankets and wished he had his iPod with him.

"Bruder?" said a familiar voice from the doorway.

"West!" cried Gilbert happily, glad for a distraction. "How are you?"

"I should be asking you that." Replied Ludwig drily. "Do they know what's wrong with you?"

"No." he lowered his voice to a whisper, "I don't think they know what's wrong with that guy over there either…"

"So this is a ward for unknown cases then?"

"Probably. But that guy is weird: he acts all refined, but from what I've overheard the doctors saying, he collapsed at a punk concert, so it's quite likely that he's taken some drug the police haven't gotten round to making illegal yet."

"Hang on, isn't he your old friend Arthur, the one who wrote that song you use as your ringtone with you?"

"Oh yeah! it is! I fell out with him as he started getting involved with drugs."

"The man who found you said that the doctors had tested you for drugs – do you think this could be a drug-testing ward?"

"Perhaps…" Gilbert looked at his brother. "Do you mean Roderich? Nice guy, quite posh but not stuck up."

Ludwig looked at Gilbert in confusion. "You remembered his name after meeting him once? It took you _weeks_ to learn Feli's name!"

"That's because his name is so long! How do you expect me to remember _Feliciano_ in one go!"

"_I _did."

"Yeah, but that's just you."

They continued their brotherly banter for a few more minutes, before the doctor walked over to Gilbert's bed.

"Good morning sir, you have a visitor I see."

"My brother." Said Gilbert, irritated about being interrupted. Ludwig merely nodded politely.

Gilbert looked at the doctor with accusing eyes. "So do you know what's wrong with me yet?"

"Sir, we cannot know anything for sure…"

"Well what do you know?" Gilbert's voice rose, until he was shouting in frustration. Ludwig moved closer to Gilbert protectively.

"We're really not certain, and we wouldn't want to worry you…"

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW?" roared Gilbert and Ludwig together, as one voice. The doctor went white, before stuttering out a response:

"I… I have to fetch the head doctor."

Gilbert growled in frustration, and scowled at the new doctor who entered the ward, the scared junior scuttling along in his wake.

"Good morning Mr Beilschmidt. We have the results back from some further tests, and we have discovered that your illness is nothing to do with drug abuse of any sort."

"I could have told you that myself!" cried Gilbert, infuriated. "And I _have_ told you that repeatedly over the last twelve hours I've had the misfortune to be here!" The doctor waited patiently for Gilbert's outburst to end, before replying.

"However, we have found that your heart appears to be behaving strangely, yet we have no idea what could be causing it to happen. Your heartbeat appears to have moments where it is incredibly weak, and that is probably what caused you to pass out in Hamblin Alley. We believe that you are not only lucky to be alive, but also unlucky, as you seem to have a naturally weak heart. The only solution we can think of is a heart transplant, but that in itself is highly dangerous and it will be difficult to find a donor any time in the near future."

Gilbert's face had turned deathly pale, as had Ludwig's. The fear in both their eyes was obvious.

"And… And that's the only solution?" stammered Gilbert, feeling nauseous.

"I'm afraid it is the only practical option, unless you wish to do nothing, which may mean that you can live unhindered for many more years. However, you may also have another blackout like last night, and there might not always be someone around to save you. I hope you can understand the gravity of this situation."

"Yeah. I'm going to die. Soon."

"Well, if you can get a heart donor, you have a chance of a full recovery."

"If I can get a donor… but what's the likelihood of that hey?"

"I'll leave you two alone now." Said the doctor tactfully, and left the ward, the Englishman still chanting curses under his breath.

"What am I going to do, West?" said Gilbert desperately, as the tears he had been fighting began to spill over…

* * *

**A/N**

**Ah, nothing like a good bit of angst! I know it's terribly short, but my half term holiday's been taken up with homework and English creative writing coursework (800 word + story - I adapted my first draft into a GerIta fic, it's on my profile. I published it before I finished editing it!). I figured you would prefer a short update to no update... Also, my laptop's about to die so I can't write any more anyway!**

**Byeee!**

**Emily Prustrian**


	5. Chapter 5

Roderich could sense that something was wrong the second he stepped into the ward. The air was thick with the impenetrable aura of death and, as far as he could tell, this wave of bad feeling was not only coming from the head case in the corner.

"Haruka naru chi yori shoukan suru!"

Roderich rolled his eyes, before turning and addressing the pile of blankets on the bed to his left.

"Good morning Gilbert, what's happened?"

A muffled, choking sob came from under the green hospital blankets, followed by a rasping "Leave me alone!"

Roderich sat down by Gilbert's bed, concerned.

"Is it something the doctors have told you? Can you tell me?"

A shock of tousled white hair peeked out from under the blankets, followed by a pair of bloodshot red eyes.

"I'm going to die."

Roderich felt the blood drain from his face.

"What did the doctors say to you?"

"They said that my heart is basically crap at being a heart, so I either need a transplant or it'll just give up on me. Not very reassuring!"

Roderich looked horrified and Gilbert, distraught as he was, didn't want to cause any more tears to be shed on his behalf. If his brother, whom he hadn't seen cry since he was a child, even when their Grandfather died, had broken down into sobs, he dreaded to think what this pansy's reaction would be.

"So what's in the box, Specs?" he joked, changing the subject.

Roderich's face turned a delicate shade of pink, as he slowly lifted the lid off the cake tin.

"I made you a cake, to try and relieve the boredom of hospital life for you. I probably shouldn't have brought it right on lunchtime though…" he glanced at the clock: ten minutes past one.

"Awesome!" gasped Gilbert, his mouth watering at the sight of the cake. "I may actually eat something other than inedible hospital slop today!"

Roderich snickered; even at the private hospital where he was a patient, the quality of the food was severely lacking.

"Is that guy over there trying to summon a demon or something?" Roderich asked Gilbert quietly, as Arthur began muttering to himself again, his hands rising above his head.

"Yeah, I think so. He's an old friend from a few years ago, I fell out with him when he started getting involved with drugs. He apparently collapsed at a punk concert. I'm frankly not surprised."

"Haruka naru chi yori shoukan suru!"

"Any idea what he's saying?" asked Roderich, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it.

"Not a clue! I think it's Japanese though, Arthur used to think that ninja's were Satan's acrobats or something like that!"

At this, Roderich burst out laughing, and looked around furtively before sliding a plastic knife out of his pocket and proceeding to cut the cake. Gilbert started laughing too, as the knife simply bent and threatened to break in two instead of actually cutting the cake.

"I figured the nurses would skin me alive if I brought a metal knife in here!" he said by way of explanation.

Eventually, Roderich handed Gilbert a piece of cake, wrapped in a napkin he had also managed to bring with him.

"Do you like it?" he asked shyly, as Gilbert took a massive bite out of the slice. "It's called Donauwelle."

Gilbert's eyes closed in bliss as he swallowed the cake.

"That," he said, pausing for emphasis, "was the best damn piece of cake ever!"

Roderich beamed at him, delighted.

"Well, you've got a whole tin of it to eat, and I can make you another one if you want it!"

"I struck lucky last night, being found by a guy with supernatural cooking skills!"

"I'm just glad you like it!" smiled Roderich, swelling with pride.

"So what do you do when you're not playing in concerts of trying to destroy people's figures with awesome cake?" smirked Gilbert cockily.

"Well, not much, I tend to just sit around drinking tea." Roderich looked up at Gilbert from under his eyelashes guiltily.

'Aww, how adorable!' Thought Gilbert to himself at Roderich's flustered face.

"Don't you have any friends to do things with?

"I… I have my partner, Vash, but other than him, I don't really have any friends…"

Gilbert felt a pang in his chest; Roderich was taken. He quickly shook his head: he'd only know this guy a day; he shouldn't be feeling like this about him!

"I can't see why you don't have any friends, what did you do when you were at school?" Gilbert couldn't imagine how he could have survived school without Francis and Antonio. The three had met on their first day of nursery school in the sandpit, and all through school, they had been inseparable. A teacher at their middle school had even gone as far as to call them the Bad Touch Trio, as they seemed to magnetically attract trouble, and the name had stuck.

"Well… I had one friend, a Hungarian girl named Elizaveta Hédévary. She went to the same Prep school as me in Vienna; the Stratford Academy. My parents were quite rich, so could afford to send me there easily, and I thought hers were too, especially since she was a boarder and had to travel from Germany each term. I could never understand why my parents wouldn't let me see her outside of school though, and why they never liked it when I talked about her. It turned out that her parents could barely afford the fees any more, as her Father had lost his job. My parents were social climbers, they still are, and didn't want their 'Little Darling' associating with someone whose parents couldn't afford the five-figure sum necessary to attend the school. She left at the end of year four, to go to a state school instead." Roderich smiled sadly. "She was a lovely girl, very protective of her friends, but a bit of a tomboy, so that's probably another reason why my parents didn't like her.

Gilbert looked at him incredulously. "You say she was called Elizaveta Hedevary?"

"Yes…"

"Do you know what school she left to go to?"

"I… I think it was Henning Middle school or something…"

Gilbert fell back on the bed, laughing his head off.

"You… You knew… Elizaveta!" he spluttered in-between laughs.

"Do you know her too or something?"

"Too right I knew her! I went to Henning Middle too, and along with Francis and Toni, she was one of my best friends! We argued about everything, and frequently hit me and Francis round the head with a frying pan in food when the teacher wasn't looking!"

"That sounds like her!" said Roderich. "I thought she was a boy at first in fact, and so did most of our class!"

"Yeah, I thought she was at first, and she hit me when I told her I had only just realized she was a girl… I can clearly remember wearing sunglasses for a week to hide the black eye!"

Roderich started laughing at this too, before suddenly thinking of something.

"You… You don't have her number still do you?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I do – West made me go through our address book the other day checking it was up to date, and I just dialled all the numbers and asked people where they lived, instead of writing letters to everyone like he expected me to."

"Lazy." Roderich remarked, smiling.

"Speak for yourself, four-eyes, at least I don't just sit around drinking tea all day!"

"Well what do you do then?"

"Sit at home playing video games sponging off my brother, what else?"

"I sincerely hope you're joking!"

"Chill Specs! I live with my brother, sure, but I pay him rent. I'm an assistant in the local music shop."

"How come I've never seen you there?"

"You go to Royal's don't you, if you play the violin and piano. I work at Gale's – we sell woodwind, brass, guitars, drum kits and the like. You've probably never been there."

"You're right, I haven't been there."

"So, do you still want Liz's number?"

"Yes please! It would be brilliant to meet her again."

Gilbert pulled a pad of paper and a pen from a bag of essentials Ludwig had left him, before scribbling down a number. "There you go, she'll probably be glad to hear from you – I think she mentioned something about a musical kid she used to be at school with once."

Roderich neatly folded the paper before tucking it into his pocket. As he was doing so, his phone started playing a very tinny rendition of the Overture from Carmen.

"Sheiße!" hissed Roderich – he had forgotten to turn off his phone, as he so rarely used it.

"Tut tut!" smirked Gilbert, "You can go if you want, West said he'd drop in again later, so I won't get _too_ bored! Besides," he smiled up at Roderich, "I have cake!"

"Don't eat it all at once, you'll be sick!"

"Yes _Mother_!" he smirked. "Will I see you again?"

"I'll be back tomorrow – you can count on it!"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**  
**Just to say, the translations for that last bit:**

**1. Santra ba ra winza etc.**  
** - just magic words from England's Evil Demon Summoning Song (which I listen to with an evil grin on my face)**  
**2.**

**This chapter is optional, and the only thing it actually adds to the plot line is summarized in the A/N at the bottom...**

Lukas snuck out of the front door to their mansion, before hurriedly clambering into his car. Anna had gone out for the night with some old university friends, and had offered to bring Lukas with her, to give him something to to that evening. However, Lukas found her friends the single most annoying people on the planet.

There was Casey, who he swore was going to kill him one day, whilst smiling throughout.

Casey would probably bring along her friend Natalya, who was probably a paid assassin, and would kill him for fun on her day off, especially if you messed with her brother, Ivan.

There was Holly, who seemed nice, until she smiled... She an Ivan were far to similar for comfort.  
Lukas shuddered in terror as he sped out of the driveway.

If those four weren't scary enough, there were three others: the least scary being Charlotte, who reminded Lukas of the silent shopkeeper opposite Roderich's apartment.

The other two were the worst. Not because they were axe murderers, or assassins or anything remotely scary. It was because they were happy. All the freaking time. It drove Lukas to distraction, and whenever Anna oh-so-cheerfully announced that one of them would be coming for tea, Lukas made a beeline for the aspirin.

One was Lauren: and not only did she also smile in a scary fashion, she would read *_ahem_* inappropriate things aloud, she would read them aloud, at the dinner table, with much waggling of eyebrows. Lukas knew his wife was a bit of a pushover, however she was usually able to calm most of her friends down, and call our house to some sense of order. Lauren was one of two people she was completely powerless to resist, along with the worst out of all the friends; Emily.

Not only did she appear to be either constantly high or FAR too untroubled, she took far too much delight out of pranks and schemes, as well as generally annoying people. She also had an uncanny knack for putting her foot in it.

That was why Lukas had politely declined the offer, and had instead said he wanted to stay at home and practice his violin.

However, as soon as his wife's car was out of the earshot, his violin had gone back into its case, and the eyeliner and ripped t-shirt had come out, and Lukas had run for the door.

Underneath his whole gentleman persona, lurked a secret, hidden, punk.

Lukas also had another secret: he was seeing someone else. And that someone was a man.

Mathias was like the sun to Lukas; he was also always happy, but this somehow didn't annoy him as much as Anna's friends did. His happiness made Lukas happy too, and that had to be a good thing, right?

Mathias knew Lukas's position, how he was married and had a grown up son, but Lukas had begged him to forget that, and just love him for who he was.

There was one small problem in their relationship however: what would they do if people found out?

**A/N**

**Okay, what do you need to learn from that:**

**1. Anna has weird friends Lukas doesn't like**  
**2. Lukas is a punk**  
**3. Lukas is having an affair with Mathias.**

**Yeah, the friends are based on my friends, (and yes, we are that weird) and I am also obsessed with Punk!Norway!**

**This was only written cos I felt bad for not remembering to put the translations on the last chapter (and I forgot to say goodbye!)**

**Anyhoo, byeee!**

**Emily Prustrian**


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